


Clothes (That Wear Us)

by rei_c



Series: When Memories Live Again [4]
Category: Jupiter Ascending (2015)
Genre: Clothing, Clothing Porn, Don't Examine This Too Closely, Dysfunctional Family, F/F, F/M, Fashion & Couture, Incest, Jewelry, Multi, Reincarnation, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 15:10:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4792013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rei_c/pseuds/rei_c
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five moments in and around the events of <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/4681166/chapters/10685072">The Little Prince</a> and <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/4691801">A More Perfect World</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clothes (That Wear Us)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [formalizing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/formalizing/gifts).



> I was challenged to write something about clothes in this world, so there is mostly just an excuse for fashion porn. Inspiration came from Zuhair Murad, Bouchra Jarrar, Kristian Aadnevik, and Laurence Xu, and this quote from Virginia Woolf:
>
>> There is much to support the view that it is clothes that wear us and not we them; we may make them take the mould of arm or breast, but they would mould our hearts, our brains, our tongues to their liking.

.

( _one: the jacket_ ). 

Jupiter lets out a breath between clenched teeth. Kalique, standing to the side and watching the proceedings with a smile on her face, clucks her tongue. The dressmaker stands up from where she'd been kneeling to adjust the length of the dress, worried. 

"Majesty?" she says, as the designer and tailor move closer, the former frowning and the latter looking fearful for some reason.

"I am _not_ a dress person," Jupiter says. "Do I really need all of these clothes?" 

Kalique steps forward at that, puts one hand on the designer's shoulder. "Yes," Kalique says, firmly. "Even if you don't wear them every day, you agreed we would dress for dinner and you need clothes for all the balls and parties we're going to be invited to." 

Jupiter turns beseeching eyes on Caine, wings outstretched as he guards the room's entrance. One corner of Caine's mouth quirks upwards but he's completely serious as he says, "Your majesty," as if that's enough. 

It is. 

\--

Kalique finally leaves them alone on the third day, saying that the fashion team has things well under control. Jupiter's skin itches with all the attention, the strange materials, the number of clothes she's tried on over the past few days. 

It's late in the afternoon when Jupiter sheds the latest creation -- some incredibly tight material that feels like lace but stretches like spandex over her curves and leaves nothing to the imagination -- and raises an eyebrow when the designer stands in front of her, deep in thought. 

"I have an idea," the designer finally says. She meets Jupiter's eyes and asks, "If your majesty permits?" 

"Sure," Jupiter says. "Go crazy." 

The designer gestures the tailor and dressmaker forward and starts talking to them in a language Jupiter doesn't know, hands everywhere as she shares her plan. The tailor looks like arguing but the dressmaker says something else and the tailor subsides. 

Jupiter rolls her eyes and decides that they look as if they're going to be a while. She heads for the table covered in glasses of different drinks and platters of snacks but Caine gets there before she does, hands her a tall flute of something blue and a pastry with something green oozing out of the ends. She just looks at him. 

"Trust me," he tells her, quietly, eyes flicking over her shoulder and around the room, like someone might have been able to sneak in during the three seconds he wasn't paying attention. 

"You know I do," Jupiter replies, and sips the drink. It tastes just like ice-cold water, cool and crisp as it goes down her throat, but five seconds later she can feel -- it's as if fireworks are going off in her brain. "Whoa. What is this?" 

Caine smiles, says, "Water from the beaches of a planet far away from here. The water contains an energising protein similar to earth's caffeine but more instantaneous and without the addictive properties or crash." 

"And this?" Jupiter asks, lifting the pastry in other hand. 

"A recipe from the world I was manufactured on," Caine says. His smile has gone, eyes showing wariness. "Berries steeped in alcohol and baked into a pastry shell." 

Jupiter smiles up at Caine, says, "You should be a food critic. Or a chef." She takes a bite of the pastry and closes her eyes as it hits her tongue. So many different flavours and yet, underneath them all, the flakiness of the pastry dough and a tang from berries as sweet as honeycomb. Jupiter savours the first bite but she pushes the rest of it in her mouth all at once and washes it down with the rest of the water. She bounces on her toes, feels like she could run a marathon with the energy spreading out from each of her bones. 

"Majesty?" the designer calls. 

Jupiter gives Caine an exasperated look, leans up and kisses the corner of his mouth. "Not much longer, right?" she murmurs. 

Caine laughs, runs one hand through Jupiter's hair. "It'll be over soon."

With a deep breath, Jupiter heads back to the group and lets them drape replicated fabrics all over her body, pulling tight here and there, loosening up in other spots, and when they're finally satisfied and show Jupiter her reflection, a slow smile crosses Jupiter's lips. 

"Yes," she says firmly. "More like this." 

She's finally in trousers -- not jeans but better than the dresses and skirts. The material's close to silk but heftier, hardier, and Jupiter runs her hands down her hips. Not too tight; she'll be able to run in these if she has to. The shirt looks simple at first sight but Jupiter squints and eventually makes out the vaguest swirls of an imprinted design, and the jacket, holy crap. Double-breasted, shoulder straps, gold buttons, and -- "Oh, thank god," Jupiter says. " _Pockets_." 

Jupiter turns, takes in every angle, buttons the jacket and then unbuttons it again, and can see herself wearing this, for sure. "I love it," she says. She glances at Caine, who looks as though he's drinking her in, as if he's planning how best to _eat_ her, and Jupiter shivers. She tears herself away from Caine's eyes and looks at the designer. "So many more like this."

\--

She doesn't get to keep any of the clothes, of course; all of the materials were second-rate replications and the seams were closed with a temporary glue. Jupiter gets to run around Karyai for another week in jeans and sweaters, but then the first package of clothing arrives. 

On the very top is her jacket. 

 

( _two: the red dress_ ).  
The shipments of clothes start coming fast and furious after the first one is delivered and, soon enough, Jupiter has no excuse to put off dressing up for dinner. She waits until the beginning of the week -- though really, there's no reason to differentiate the days on Karyai; every day is much the same as the rest -- and then stands in her dressing room, overwhelmed. 

"You've got fifteen minutes until dinner," Caine says. 

Jupiter jumps; she hadn't heard him but when she looks, he's leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching her with a fond smile. Jupiter can't help but return the smile and she does, brightly. "Help," she says, and gestures at all the clothing she's surrounded by. "I have no idea what to wear and half of these things, I don't know how to get them _on_ , but I can't give in and ask Kalique for help because she'll hold it against me for --"

She had been starting to panic-ramble but Caine stops her, kissing her soft and gentle, as if she's delicate and might crack at any moment -- or as if he's still not sure whether he's allowed to do this and he wants to savour it for as long as he can. Thinking about that makes something inside of Jupiter hurt and she ignores it the best way she knows how: by kissing Caine back, licking at the inside of his mouth, nipping his lips, pulling him closer to her and breathing him in. 

Caine's the one that pulls back, says, "We don't have time." 

He sounds so honestly sorry that Jupiter forgives him instantly. She kisses the tip of Caine's nose, nuzzles his neck to get his scent in her nose, and then steps back, takes a deep breath, and says, "Okay. How do we do this." 

"Tomorrow, we ask Kiza," Caine says. Kiza -- of course, that's a perfect solution and Stinger's even mentioned that Kiza's been feeling useless once or twice since they got to Karyai and doesn't have the bees to take care of. "Tonight, we just pick one and get it on so you aren't late for dinner, because if you're late for dinner --" 

"You're not family," Jupiter says, finishing the rule and wishing she'd never championed such a stupid idea in the first place. She's not part of this family, no matter how many times everyone else takes it as understood that she's some long-dead and horrible-sounding space queen. She's getting tired of arguing, though, especially here, in what's rapidly come to feel like her own house -- alcazar -- and it's easier to give into Seraphi's children. There are other, more important things to fight about. 

\--

In the end, Jupiter runs through the hallways to make it to dinner on time. She slides into the room just as the fifth bell rings and stands in the doorway to catch her breath. When she looks up, every eye in the room is on her. 

"I knew red would be a good colour on you, mother," Titus says, in between popping grapes into his mouth. "It always has been." 

Kalique comes over, walks around Jupiter, and finally says, "You're not wearing proper shoes, though, mother," because there's nothing else to complain about. "I suppose one day you'll start to. We're all _quite_ looking forward to that day, I'm sure." 

Jupiter smiles at her, a hard smile showing off her teeth, and Kalique's eyes drop to the ground in unspoken submission. "Sit back down, Kalique," Jupiter says. She takes a deep breath, heart racing again but this time for a far different reason as she looks at Balem, asks, "Any comments?" 

Balem's gaze, moving slowly from Jupiter's head down to her toes and back up again, feels like burning. He takes in her flushed cheeks, the simple up-do Jupiter shoved her hair into while she was running, half of it out already and curls of hair framing her face, drawing attention to the red drop earrings she's wearing, long enough and delicate enough to twine in with her hair and brush her shoulders. It's the dress, though, that garners most of Balem's attention. 

Red, bright red, red the colour of fresh blood. Thin straps going over her shoulders, highlighting the slender strength of her arms and the arch of her collarbones, and turning into a cape that hangs as long as the dress. A gathered bodice, twisted right below Jupiter's breasts, which are covered only by a few layers of red-dyed lace -- thick layers but not many of them. A skirt that hugs tight to her waist and hips and then flows outwards, the material gradually turning sheer after it passes her knees. Slippers rather than heels, but even they're dyed to match, exactly, the colour of the dress. 

Jupiter lifts a hand, traces the curve of her necklace, can't help the shiver but doesn't know if it's from the memory of Caine's hands on her neck, fastening the clasp, or the way Balem is looking at her. 

Caine, behind her, shifts on his feet, and across the room, Stinger stands up straighter, starts to unfurl his wings at the scent of possible trouble. That jars Balem out of whatever state he'd been in and he blinks, leans back and smirks -- it's not a smile. 

"You're finally starting to look like an Abrasax, Mother," Balem says, and one day Jupiter's going to learn how he can drawl so effectively with such a rasping, husky voice. "Sister," he adds, eyes still fixed on Jupiter, "you've done well."

Kalique snipes back as Caine helps Jupiter sit down and arranges her cape for her, then takes a seat next to her, between her and Balem. Caine's done that on purpose; usually he sits between her and Titus. Jupiter wishes she could lean over and ask why, what's changed, but instead she raises her voice and says, "Serve, please." 

\--

Dinner is more subdued than normal. It's as if the others think that Jupiter's become a completely different person just because she's not wearing jeans and sneakers for once and they aren't sure how to react to her. Caine is a solid, steady presence at her side as he eats his way through every course with an intensity that's only rivalled by the attention he's bestowed on Jupiter since he first met her. 

Titus relaxes back into normality the fastest but Jupiter supposes that nearly dying at his wedding would give him a different outlook on life than the others might have. He certainly rolls with the punches the best out of the three of them. 

By the time the main course is over and dishes are being cleared by silent, efficient androids, Kalique's making her usual comments again, snide remarks that normally entertain Titus and make Balem bristle. 

Balem's not bristling, though. He's not responding to any of Kalique's subtle invitations to argue or Titus's -- well, whatever Titus is doing, Jupiter's not sure. Instead, he's just -- just sitting there, eating mechanically and looking over at Jupiter every third bite. Every time she moves, he moves as well as if he's mirroring her, ready to do whatever she is. Every time she opens her mouth to say something, even if it's just to order the next course be brought in, his attention is instantly on her. 

It's with a sense of surprise that Jupiter realises something: Balem is more attuned to her than Caine is. Weird -- and also ridiculous, taking Caine's genetics into account. She thinks about asking what he's doing or how he's doing this or why now but when Caine puts his hand on her thigh to calm her down, she gets it. It's the feel of Caine's skin, the way his calluses catch on the material of her dress, that knocks it into her and knocks her almost out of her chair. 

She looks like Seraphi and Balem is treating her the same way he would treat his mother. 

Jupiter stands up at that, abruptly, and Titus nearly knocks over his wine-glass. Caine's on his feet, as is Balem, and Stinger's moved closer, away from his position against the wall. 

"Majesty?" Stinger asks at the same moment Balem says, "Mother?" 

"It's nothing," Jupiter says. "I just -- I -- stay and finish your dinner. I have to go." 

She doesn't quite leave the dining room with the same speed she entered it, but it's close. 

 

( _three: the black boots_ ).  
It starts with a box delivered to Jupiter along with her breakfast. The box rests on the corner of the tray, classic black velvet with a bow on top the colour of sparkling RegeneX, and just the reminder of RegeneX has Jupiter almost throw it across the room. It's a self-induced sort of ill feeling taking over her stomach; Seraphi took a RegeneX bath last week when she took control over their -- over Jupiter's body, and Jupiter hasn't been able to look at herself in the mirror since. 

After forcing down a couple bites of toast, Jupiter picks up the box, undoes the bow and lets the ribbon fall to the floor. She opens the box and tilts her head, eyes narrowed. She's not sure she understands: two rolled-up, long black satin ribbons, studded with what look suspiciously like diamonds, what kind of present is this? What's it supposed to mean?

Jupiter doesn't take her eyes off of the ribbons as she drinks her coffee, but she snaps the box closed as soon as she hears Kiza in the sitting room. Something about this is -- not for Kiza to see, Jupiter knows that much. 

\--

Jupiter goes through her morning unable to keep her mind from the ribbons. She resists the urge to call Caine and have him track down whoever gave them to her; she hasn't actually seen his face for months now and can't bring herself to force him into her presence. She'd ask Stinger but she knows he must have already vetted the gift if it made it through to her rooms, and the thought of facing Kalique and admitting her ignorance makes Jupiter wants to bite down _hard_ on something. 

Instead, she goes through the normal routine with the puzzle of the ribbons a burning itch at the back of her mind, making her irritable and quick to snap at whoever's closest. Jupiter tries to rein herself back in every time but it's hard and made harder still when another box appears next to her lunch. 

Determined to ignore this one, Jupiter waves one of her ever-present guard close, drops the box into her hands, and says, "There's another one in my rooms. Put this with it." 

The bear splice doesn't ask questions, doesn't even give Jupiter a look to suggest she's a fool for not at least opening it, but does exactly as directed with a silent grace that doesn't fit her size and stature. 

\--

By dinner, the other residents of the alcazar have clearly caught on to Jupiter's mood. Kiza dresses her in a severe black dress devoid of embellishments, the only decoration the angular lines of the bodice's tightly-laced corset and the hi-lo design of the skirt, so short in the front that ordinarily she'd be flinching even while the back is so long, it's practically a train behind her. Jupiter picks through the dozens of jewellery boxes but doesn't see anything she wants to wear, save for a replica of the bracelet she broke weeks ago in a rage. Seraphi must have ordered a copy, and that realisation is enough for Jupiter to let out a growl and slam the jewellery box closed without choosing anything. 

Kiza doesn't say anything, just pulls back Jupiter's hair into a tightly braided bun and then lines her eyes with kohl and applies a dark lipstick. Jupiter looks at herself in the mirror and doesn't recognise herself, this fearless and flawless being who might as well be going off to execute someone with all the warmth in her eyes and posture. 

"I'm not even Seraphi yet," Jupiter says. "And yet I feel comfortable like this."

"Wait until you put on the shoes, majesty," Kiza says. 

Jupiter turns, sees the heels that Kiza's picked up, and shakes her head. "No," she says, and Kiza steps back, head tilted to one side to bare her throat. Jupiter closes her eyes, counts to ten, and only then says, "Those aren't -- I just have this feeling." 

Kiza hesitates before coming closer, shoes left forgotten on the floor, and the hand she puts on Jupiter's arm is a light and tentative touch. "What feeling, majesty?" Jupiter shakes her head, lost, and Kiza asks, "Jupiter?" in a tone as soft as her skin on Jupiter's. 

"No shoes tonight," Jupiter says. She laughs bitterly at the look on Kiza's face and goes back to the bank of mirrors, stares at herself. "I know, right? It's ridiculous. But -- I shouldn't wear shoes tonight and I _know_ that but I don't know _why_." 

"Majesty," Kiza murmurs, and then she's kneeling at Jupiter's side, taking Jupiter's wrist, turning it to kiss the underside, right over the veins. 

Jupiter would ordinarily flinch -- has done, before, the few times Kiza's done this -- but tonight, in this odd mood of hers, she lets her fingertips curl under Kiza's chin, stroke the vulnerable skin there, pressure of her nails sending an obvious chill across Kiza's spine. Jupiter's fascinated, wants to see how far she can make that chill go, how far Kiza would go for her, and when she realises what she's thinking, Jupiter tears herself away and heads for the door. 

"Let's not be late for dinner," she says, and walks out of her rooms with bare feet, Kiza scurrying behind her to catch up. 

\--

Balem's alone in the dining room when Jupiter arrives. He stands as soon as he sees her and Jupiter pauses where she is, lets him take his fill of her. Something in his eyes changes when he sees her bare feet, toenails painted vibrant red, and he inclines his head, drops his eyes to the floor. "Mother," he murmurs. 

So. He knows why she's feeling this way. He's probably the one who sent her the boxes, as well, and she's about to ask what the hell's going on when Titus and Kalique walk through the door together, each going to one side of Jupiter and simultaneously dropping a kiss on her cheek.

"Mother," Kalique says, before she walks around Balem to take her own seat. 

Titus stands a moment longer next to Jupiter, leans in and whispers, "You look ravishingly fierce tonight, mother," before kissing her again, this time on her neck. 

Jupiter looks at her -- at Seraphi's children, sees Kalique holding back a smirk and Balem holding back violence, and says, "Sit down, Titus. _Now_ ," she adds, when he doesn't move fast enough for her taste. 

\--

No one says much of anything during dinner. Either Jupiter's mood has spread to the others or they can recognise the barely-leashed rage of her gaze, the way she's holding her knife, the sounds of her fork's tines scraping across dishes. 

Jupiter's not hungry but she makes an admirable pretence of eating, she thinks, and when she's had enough, she stands up. Balem's rising as well, a moment behind her, and Jupiter cocks her head, looks at him until he drops his eyes. 

"I'm done," she says, edges of her words sharp. "Kalique, Titus, stay as long as you'd like. Balem, with me." 

She leaves, then, and hears Balem's footsteps echo behind hers. 

\--

He trails her back to her rooms and Jupiter heads unerringly for the two boxes in her bedroom. She picks them up, one in each hand, and turns to Balem, says, "Explain."

Balem swallows and barely meets Jupiter's eyes as he says, "Happy birthday, Mother." 

Jupiter flinches as if he'd smacked her. "It's not my birthday."

He wants to argue with her, Jupiter can see it in his face, read it in the cant of his shoulders. She narrows her eyes, rips the ribbon off of the second box and opens it, sees two diamonds as large as her eyes, hooks made from platinum at the top, resting on the velvet inside. 

" _Explain_ ," she says, again.

"There's one more, Mother," Balem says, barely louder than a whisper. "May I --?"

Jupiter waves him off, moves to her dressing room and sits on the bench in the middle of the room, one box on either side of her ridiculous dress, arms crossed over her chest and counting to one hundred in Russian under her breath. 

She makes it to eighty-seven and then Balem's kneeling in front of her, a much bigger box in his hands. He unties the ribbon, takes the lid off, and Jupiter's breath is just _gone_.

Boots, but not just any boots, no. These are knee-high at least, maybe even thigh-high, and while the sole and heel look sturdy, a whirling mix of rearing cobras and coiled up rattlesnakes, delicately formed out of suede and held together with shimmering black thread, make up the rest of the boot. There are zips up the back and lace-holes up the front, and Balem takes the ribbons from one box, laces the boots quickly and silently, before taking the diamonds and hooking them to the zippers. 

With that done, Balem looks up at Jupiter, waiting for her pronouncement. 

"How did Kiza know which dress to put me in?" she asks, because the dress she's wearing will match the boots _perfectly_. "How did I know not to wear shoes?"

"I told your chambermaid what to look for," Balem admits, lowering his eyes. "But the rest -- Mother, that's all you." 

Seraphi reaches out, cups her hand to Balem's cheek, and purrs, "Oh, my Balem. You'll help me put them on, I assume?"

Something in Balem's shoulders gives; Seraphi wants to crow with glee as she sees it but, instead, she lifts one foot. Balem carefully slides the material around her skin, settles her foot into the sole and strap, and then zips up the back before lacing up the front, fingertips stroking her skin. Once he puts the other one on her, Seraphi stands, strides over to the mirror and studies the way she looks. 

"It's missing something," she says, and then says, "Ah, yes, of course. My bracelet, Balem." 

Balem doesn't say anything as he rises, goes to the jewellery boxes and rifles through them until he finds the silver bracelet studded with black jewels. Seraphi holds out her wrist with an imperious demand and Balem doesn't say a word as he clasps it around her wrist. 

Seraphi looks at herself, looks at Balem, next to her, so much her perfect Abrasax, and says, "I am well-pleased with this year's gift, Balem. Let Mother reward you for your thoughtfulness." 

She turns to Balem, tugs him close, and then fits his lips to hers, hearing him moan in the back of his throat and drinking his submission down like the finest of wines.

 

( _four: the golden necklace_ ).  
The alcazar interrupts Jupiter's argument with Kalique by sounding a small chime that shuts them both up. Jupiter expects Kalique to answer but Kalique merely gestures back; Jupiter lets out a huffy breath. 

"Yes, alcazar?" Jupiter asks, grateful for the reprieve. Oh, it's not that she dislikes arguing with Kalique -- it can be a lot of fun sometimes -- but her head aches. It has ever since she woke up yesterday morning, missing three days from her memory. 

She's slowly being replaced by Seraphi and she hates it. 

"Majesty, a clipper has matched orbit around the planet and is requesting permission for an envoy to land," the alcazar says. 

There's a spike of pain in the back of Jupiter's skull and Jupiter grits her teeth, pushes the agony back down. She's not going to give into Seraphi now, not like this. "Did they say who it is?" Jupiter asks. 

It takes the alcazar a moment to respond but it finally does, answers, "House Valaelor, majesty." 

Kalique stiffens, opens her mouth, but Jupiter holds up a hand, says, "Permission granted. Have someone meet the landing party and bring them to the main chamber." 

"As you will it, majesty," the alcazar replies. "Is there anything else I may do for your majesty?" 

Jupiter thinks for a moment. "See if Kiza has time to help me get dressed." She pauses there, finally says, reluctantly, "And have Balem meet me in the hall outside of my rooms in twenty minutes. Tell him what's going on." 

The alcazar signals its understanding and ends the conversation with another simple ding. 

"Mother, surely you don't --" Kalique finally says, shock riding her voice. 

Jupiter cuts her off, says, "I do and I will." She squares her shoulders and starts walking to her rooms, calling out, "Keep TItus occupied while our guests are here, Kalique," right before she leaves with Stinger on her heels. 

\--

House Valaelor has never been one of House Abrasax's greatest friends or even apathetic acquaintances. They started off as business partners from what Jupiter's been taught, but then something happened thousands of years ago to turn them completely against Seraphi. Jupiter might not have full access to Seraphi's memories yet, might not _be_ Seraphi yet, but she remembers the feeling of vicious satisfaction when House Valaelor was brought to their knees and crushed. 

It's taken them this long to even regain their status as a House, and part of Jupiter respects their courage in coming to face her while the rest just assumes they're trying to take advantage of her before she -- regresses. 

That's part of the reason she's letting Kiza put her in a long, deep-blue sleeveless gown, fix up her hair, and drape her head, ears, arms, wrists, and fingers with jewellery. 

"No necklace?" Jupiter asks as she's bending over, tying the laces on the high-heeled ankle boots she's reluctantly agreed to wear. 

"Not with an envoy coming," Kiza answers. "House Valaelor will bring you one if they're serious about this. Your lack will signal that you're willing to listen and going to be offended if they haven't brought a traditional greeting gift." 

Jupiter shakes her head; she's never going to get the hang of this shit. 

\--

Balem is waiting in the hall when Jupiter finally emerges from her rooms half an hour later. He's been focused on a sheave in his hands but he looks up at the first sound of the doors sliding open and his eyes widen when he sees Jupiter. 

Jupiter can't help but flush. She -- rather, Seraphi -- has done _things_ with Balem that go far, far beyond the normal limits of a parent-child relationship. Jupiter's careful not to think the word incest but she sometimes fails, and very occasionally she sees snippets of those actions in her memory and wants more. Even now, knowing how fucked up this whole thing is, just seeing Balem in front of her makes her wet, has her heart beating faster in anticipation. 

"Mother," Balem says, finally. "You look beautiful." 

"Flatterer," Jupiter replies but she can't help the blush that rises to her cheeks at the compliment. "Do you know what's happening?" 

Balem lifts the sheave slightly. "House Valaelor is coming to beg at our feet," he says. "Will you show them mercy this time, Mother?"

This time. So Balem knows why Seraphi went after them with such single-minded focus. Jupiter's tempted to ask but she's not going to; if Balem thinks she needs to know the complete history, he'll tell her. 

"Depends on what they bring me," Jupiter teases. 

\--

She enters the main chamber with Balem to her right and one step behind, Stinger behind them both but not too far away. The room is ringed by members of Jupiter's guard, all of them emitting pheromones so thickly into the air that Jupiter, simple human though she is, can smell them. 

The envoy, a splice with feathers instead of hair and golden implants around her eyes, stands from where she'd been waiting and drops to one knee. Jupiter takes her time crossing the room, both to get her thoughts in order and because she's still not really comfortable in these boots, even if they're better than some of the things Kalique wants her to wear. 

"Your majesty," the splice says, head bowed. "I bring greetings from House Valaelor and an offer of peace between your two great families."

Jupiter tilts her head to one side. "And what did you bring me?" 

The splice reaches behind her, picks up an elaborately-carved wooden box, and hands it to Stinger. Stinger sniffs it, then scans it, and eventually gives it over to Balem reluctantly. Balem opens the lid, sees what's inside, and his lips tighten almost instantly, eyes going hard and cold. He turns the box to let Jupiter see what's inside. The second Jupiter understands, the ache in the back of her head jacks up in intensity so fast that she's nearly relieved when she can feel herself slide away, pushed to the side by Seraphi. 

"Your House thinks to make a mockery of me?" Seraphi says, and the softness of her voice does nothing to hide the fury she's feeling. "To send me _this_ as an offering of truce?" 

Seraphi knocks the box out of Balem's hands, lets it fall to the floor and break, the golden sparkles of the necklace chain glimmering it the light. She can hear when her guard see what it is, feels her belly go tight with anticipation when they start drawing in closer, murderously outraged at the insult to their queen and eager to avenge her. 

The splice goes pale and bends to press its forehead against the tiled floor. "I -- your majesty, I had no idea that -- please forgive me." 

"An omega chain," Seraphi says, and crushes the delicate gold plates under her heel. "Such a statement and they didn't even think to warn you before sending you off to meet your death. Captain," she says, lifting her voice slightly, and her bee splice comes up next to her, drops to one knee. "Have this _thing_ taken to the dungeons and prepare it for me."

"At once, majesty," her captain says, and it rises, gestures for two of the guards to come forward. The ones it picks are twins, feline splices with exquisitely sensitive whiskers and the prowling attitude of jungle cats, and they lift the messenger with little effort, dragging it away as it screams for mercy.

Seraphi watches them go, admiring the play of muscles of her guards' backs, then shakes her head, says, "Mercy," like she doesn't even understand the meaning of the word.

"What will you do, Mother?" Balem asks, once the final echo of noise has died out. 

"They offered great insult, Balem," Seraphi says. "So they will receive greater injury. Apparently the last lesson didn't stick." She pauses, thinks for a moment, then a cruel smile crosses her lips. "Come, Balem," she says, striding to the doors. "Let's go gather some information from the splice they sent us. After that, we have a house to destroy." 

Balem follows her, an obedient puppy at her heels. "Yes, Mother." 

 

( _five: the silver armband_ ).  
Seraphi's lounging in the gardens, one of her favourite fast-healing splices lying on the ground in front of her. The animal's caught its breath but blood's still weeping sluggishly from the whip marks on its back; Seraphi studies the art she's created with a critical eye and decides it's good enough for now. 

She waves her hand, sends the splice off, and then stands up from the bench made of ivy and ferns, stretches, feels her back pop. It's quiet in the gardens, like always, and Seraphi walks barefoot down the grassy aisleways between hedges and bushes and trees. There's so much to do; her Recurrence did her best but she lacked the killer instinct Seraphi has and that she put into Kalique. Of course, no one can be expected to live up to Seraphi's example and to expect such would be foolish. 

So much to do and yet everything can either wait one more day or is already being dealt with. It's her birthday and she plans on indulging herself and every one of her appetites before midnight. 

She's just about made it to the grotto at the centre of the gardens when she hears noise -- voices. Seraphi bites back her initial displeasure -- her children know better than to disturb her out here -- and turns, waits for them with a raised eyebrow. 

Kalique's in the lead and she dips her head when she gets close, murmurs, "Mother." 

"Forgive us for disrupting your time," Titus adds, coming to a halt on Kalique's left. "But we wanted to wish you a happy birthday together, as we have a joint gift for you this year, to celebrate the permanence of your Recurrence." 

The permanence of her Recurrence -- a delicate way of putting it. Seraphi has none of Jupiter's memories but she does respect the tersie and how hard Jupiter fought to remain in control. It's taken much longer than even Seraphi had guessed but it's been four months now since she woke up and there's no sign of the girl anymore, not even in the far reaches of her mind. Jupiter Jones, such a conundrum. At times, Seraphi almost misses her.

Seraphi lays eyes on Balem, standing to Kalique's right, meets his gaze with one of her own, and asks, "Balem?" 

"We hope you'll like it, Mother," Balem says, plainly and simply. 

"Very well," Seraphi says, intrigued now. She holds out her hands and Kalique sets a box onto Seraphi's palms. 

One more look at Kalique and then Seraphi lifts the lid, letting it drop to the ground without much thought. Her eyes settle on a gleaming silver armband, the form of a snake that will wrap three times around her arm. It's clear that each loop is meant to represent one of her primaries: scales on the first loop are made from black diamonds, black opals on the second, and black pearls on the third. 

Seraphi picks up the armband, tossing the box to one side, and strokes the gems, all of them faceted, sharp enough to make someone bleed if they aren't careful, even the pearls. Pretty _and_ useful, then.

"It's beautiful," Seraphi says, and she slides it onto her right arm, pushes it up until it hugs her skin tightly, digs in just the slightest bit. "You've done well, my darlings." 

The relief is clear to see on Balem's face and some of Kalique's tension disappears, but Titus -- her darling Titus -- merely smiles and says, "Thank you, mother." 

Seraphi looks at them all, her three most prized creations, and holds out her hands. "Come with mother," she says. 

Titus takes one hand, Kalique the other, and Balem follows as Seraphi leads them into the grotto.


End file.
